


Trapped in the Shadows

by CartoonJessie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU after HBP, Also - it's fully finished! Just need to translate it., And maybe when it's done... a sequel?, Angst, Dramione End-Game, F/M, If not... I won't tell you., It's POTO inspired... if you know what that is., It's a Mystery! - Freeform, Lots of UST, Mystery, Romance, Trust me it will be more mysterious that way., Written before Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25494136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CartoonJessie/pseuds/CartoonJessie
Summary: Ten years after the defeat of Lord Voldemort, Hermione Granger starts her career as potions professor at Hogwarts… Oddly enough, to correct the homework, this warrants the help of a *very* mysterious ghost…
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	1. Prologue: The Boy without a Face

**Author's Note:**

> A big word of thanks to my wonderful beta, itsquietcompany!
> 
> FYI  
>  This story was originally written in Dutch between 2005 and 2011. The idea came before Deathly Hallows was released, and thus it does not take any ideas from the final HP book. It presents a different ending to the entire series, one I liked to imagine after reading HBP.  
>  All feedback to the story is still welcome – I hope it continues to enchant and mystify readers the same way it did when I first published it on dreuzels.com.  
>  (RIP dreuzels – you shall forever live in our hearts.)
> 
> (Is this story 100% the same? Not 100%, a few little things were added or omitted in translation, but in general, the major plot points remain the same.)

Heavy footsteps echoed in the corridors of the old, abandoned building. Water dripped into iron buckets through the open cracks in the roof. Bats hung high above on the rotting, wooden beams and the squeaking of rats could be heard in the hollow walls.

The former monastery was the last place anyone would look. Not a single Auror would expect this to be the gathering place of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. Its remote location, at the bottom of the valley, was hidden from view to any Muggles by a thick brush of trees and a stone wall that ran next to the winding forest path. The nearest house was several miles away, too far to hear the screams, too far to notice the enemy in their midst. The Death Eaters knew better than to mess with the local Muggles. It would keep the Aurors off their backs if they didn’t reveal their location by misbehaving.

A series of loud cracks could be heard from various rooms, which meant the Death Eaters were finally Disapparating after tonight’s meeting. While the cracking noise stopped, the sound of the hurried footsteps in the hallway did not.

“Draco…” a deep voice whispered. “Draco, where are you?”

Carefully, the Death Eater stepped down the wooden stairs, but he cursed when his leg went through the stairs instead, and tried not to stumble as he pulled his foot out again.

“Damnit, Draco, where the hell did you go?”

He jumped down the last remaining steps of the staircase and ran through the corridors. Every single Death Eater had left now and Voldemort had Disapparated as well, which meant that he was the Death Eater in charge of taking care of the monastery, his only hiding place since June.

Since he had murdered Dumbledore, he was the most wanted Death Eater in the United Kingdom – Voldemort excluded. But there were certain advantages that came with the territory. Voldemort’s faith in him was blind nowadays, and when the Dark Lord had given him the responsibility to keep an eye on the monastery, he had not considered that the former Hogwarts professor would go looking for the blond boy who had just fled the large room, moaning in pain after he’d received punishment for a failed mission.

Severus Snape ran through the hallway and checked behind every single door to see if he could spot Draco, but he was nowhere to be found. After several minutes he eventually left the building through one of the back doors, which is when he spotted him. In the faint moonlight, he saw the shaking outline of his former student, hunched over by the pond.

His shoulders jolted and his posture betrayed that he was tortured by immense pain.

“Draco,” the deep voice said once more, but there was not a single hint of frustration or anger left in the man’s voice this time.

The boy shot up from where he’d knelt down and held his left hand in front of his face as Snape stepped closer.

“Show me, Draco.”

“No!” The young Death Eater quickly grabbed his mask from where it lay in the dirt besides his feet, and put it back on his face with trembling hands.

“Stop being ridiculous,” the man said in a harsher tone. “Show me.”

The Death Eater mask covered the boy’s face, at least above his mouth, and it covered his tears as well, but Snape could still see how the corners of his mouth trembled in emotion.

He sighed and came to a halt.

“If you hurry now, you could still make it to St Mungo’s in time. They can help you.”

Draco’s head turned abruptly in Snape’s direction.

“St Mungo’s?” he repeated, his voice shaking.

“But you must be fast,” Snape urged. “The Healers have no choice but to help you, even if you’re a Death Eater. They swore an oath. And in Azkaban you should be safe for a while. You could warn the Aurors about the plans Voldemort has to conquer Azkaban. It will be a certain way to lighten your own punishment, and this way the Aurors can stop him. And then if they do, the Death Eaters can’t get their hands on you in Azkaban either… You’d only need to wait for your sentence to be over until…”

“Until the Dark Lord takes control of the Wizarding World in another way and ends my life still,” Draco interrupted him bitterly, tears in his eyes. “And since when would you like to see the Dark Lord defeated? This is another of his tricks, isn’t it? He’s going to kill me the moment I run.”

Snape ignored those last few sentences.

“Draco, with the help of the Order, Potter can still…”

“Potter can’t do anything without Dumbledore!” Draco reacted in anger. “And without him, there is no Order. Thanks to you, Dumbledore is…”

“He asked me to do it, stupid boy!” Snape hissed furiously as he stared at Draco. “I had to do it or we both would have died. Dumbledore _asked_ me. I never had a choice.”

Draco’s mouth dropped and he blinked for a moment – several things finally falling into place. He closed his mouth again, not sure how to take it in.

A silence fell between the two men which was only broken by a few distant hoots of owls and the rustling of the autumn leaves in the trees.

“We would be better off dead,” Draco sighed eventually, and he dropped to his knees, feeling close to despair.

Snape gulped and took a few steps closer until he crouched down in front of Draco.

“Show me,” he said quietly, and his hand rose up towards the Death Eater mask that covered Draco’s features.

Draco didn’t look at him as he allowed the mask to be pulled away. Instead, he focused on his own hands so he wouldn’t need to read the reaction of his former professor to the current state of his being.

“It’s mostly the left side, isn’t it?” Draco said softly. “I could see it in the water, even in this darkness... I felt the black rotting away underneath my fingers. I can hardly breathe through my nose anymore, and it smells like rotten flesh. I vomited at the sight, and it’s so weird to have only the right side of my nose to breathe through… The pain is subsiding, and it feels so numb. Like there’s nothing left.”

Snape tried not to show any emotion as he looked at the maimed face of the boy. Guilt overwhelmed him, for he’d been the one that had created the Maiming Potion. He hadn’t realized in time that the Dark Lord only wanted it to punish Draco.

“Draco, do you intend to remain a Death Eater?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I? As a Death Eater, I can keep my face hidden behind my mask. I can’t live another life with this face. I don’t have a choice.”

Snape put one hand on Draco’s shoulders and forced him to look up.

His tone was dead serious as he slowly said: “Draco, if you’re still unable to murder someone or use an Unforgivable Curse next time he asks, the Dark Lord _will_ kill you. This was only a warning. Please, you have to look out, Draco.”

“Then let him kill me,” Draco sighed, sounding exhausted. “Why mind death? I can’t live a life without a face anyways.”

He took the mask from Snape’s hand and placed it back to cover his scars, if what was left of him could be described as such. His body shook as he cried dry tears, and Snape felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound of Draco’s silent wail of sorrow.

“You must run, Draco.”

The boy didn’t respond.

Snape squeezed his shoulder.

“You must get out of here!”

With terrified eyes, the boy looked at the man in front of him.

Professor Snape had always been an example to him, but he’d never realized Snape wasn’t a Death Eater at all, but a confidant of Dumbledore. Oddly enough, the cold and dark murderer of Dumbledore was his only friend in this moment, the only light in a life that turned grimmer by the day. And even if Draco wanted to leave, he could not do so on his own…

“Come with me,” Draco begged.

Snape gulped and looked at him with wide eyes.

“What?” He’d not expected that question. “With you? I can’t leave, Draco… If I join you to St Mungo’s, they’ll immediately call for the Dementors and then I’ll be…”

“I don’t mean to go to St Mungo’s,” Draco interrupted him with a trembling voice. “Let’s run away. Let’s go to Russia… Or Tibet! Somewhere they’ll never find us!”

“Draco, I really can’t leave… I have to stay behind. I have work to do.”

“What kind of work?”

Snape got up again and turned around so Draco couldn’t look him in the eye anymore.

“Work I promised Dumbledore to do. I just can’t leave right now.”

Draco got up as well and looked around him. His legs were shaking and he felt weaker than ever, as though he could faint at any moment from the massive pressure and terror he felt now that he realized he was truly alone in this.

“I’ll have to run on my own,” he said uncertainly.

Snape turned around again and looked at Draco with a rare expression. There was a smile on his face while he put his hand on Draco’s shoulder again.

“I’m glad you’ve decided to live. So you won’t be headed to St Mungo’s?”

The boy shook his head and Snape thought about it.

“Take a broom. It’s hardest to track, if no one spots you in the night. Keep hidden in a place where you’d hear it if Voldemort is defeated… Don’t go too far from other wizards, just so you’ll remain in the loop – but make sure you keep a low profile…”

Snape hesitated for a moment and his voice could almost be described as hoarse as he continued.

“…And should I still be alive by the time the Dark Lord falls, then please look for me… wherever I am.”

For a moment, Draco was speechless, but he nodded in agreement none the less. Maybe this would be the final time they would…

No, he forbade himself to think like that. He had to leave or he would die. He no longer had a face, but if he stayed here, then soon enough he’d no longer have a life either. Death was an adventure he wasn’t quite ready for yet.

“I’ll get my broom,” Draco said silently and he rushed back inside.

When he emerged again several moments later, Snape still stood by the small pond, his mind racing as he stared into the tranquil water.

Draco coughed and the former Hogwarts professor turned his head to the boy with the mask and noticed the racing broom he was holding.

“Draco, before you go, I want you to take this.”

He got a smooth, black stone from his pocket and held it in the palm of his hand, his expression difficult to describe as he looked at it.

“My mother received this onyx stone from her grandfather, who got it from his. It’s been in my family for generations and they say a protection spell was cast upon it, once, a long time ago… I feel like it’s the only reason I’m alive after everything that’s happened to me. I want you to have it.”

“But…” Draco took the stone with hesitation in his eyes. “It’s a family heirloom!”

“And your father has always been like a brother to me. It’s not as though I’ll ever have children of my own, and I don’t wish to take this stone with me into my grave.”

Draco furrowed his brow beneath his mask, or what was left of his brow, and his voice sounded accusatory.

“Why are you talking as though you are going to die? If this stone will keep you alive, you should hold onto it!”

“I can’t stop the inevitable,” Snape said casually. “Everybody dies. But for you, it would be far too soon right now. And do not worry about me. I will survive for a while longer without this stone.”

Draco gave in and gave a small nod before he let the stone slip into his pocket.

“Thank you,” he said with genuine gratitude. “It’s best I leave now.”

Snape nodded and there was not a single emotion that could be read from his face – not until Draco hugged him and he softly and uneasily patted Draco’s back.

“Take care, Draco.”

“You too, Professor Snape.”

Snape smiled briefly at the memory of his very first time teaching Draco in his potions dungeons, but his smile turned into a graver expression as he saw his old pupil take off into the night. He realized that those old days were gone for good and he’d never be back at Hogwarts… or see Draco again…

And should he ever be fortunate enough to see the boy once more, it would never be the same. Not for Snape, the cursed double spy, but also not for Draco, the boy without a face…


	2. The New Professor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione arrives at Hogwarts...

Many years had passed and the Wizarding World had changed.

Ten years ago, at the age of eighteen, Harry Potter had managed to defeat Voldemort. Nearly all dark wizards had perished in that battle and only a few had been overpowered by Aurors and sent to Azkaban.

Peace had returned at last and Hogwarts had been reopened. After a year of an infernal battle against the forces of darkness, most teachers had gladly taken up their old positions again.

The years had been kind to the young victors of the war and after he’d brought the prophecy to fruition, Harry Potter was now enjoying a ‘simple’ life as an Auror, with Ginny Weasley by his side. A few years later, Ron had married the one person no one ever would have thought he’d fall for: Luna Lovegood. Even after he and Hermione had confessed their secret crush to one another, it became clear that their brief relationship was meant to be just that: brief. After a few months it had been abundantly clear that they were too different, too argumentative, and too incompatible to make it work. They parted as friends and instead looked for new dreams to pursue.

It had still come as quite a shock to Hermione that Luna Lovegood fit Ron’s dream. Nonetheless, after sharing a few laughs with Harry and Ginny about it, they’d all agreed that it somehow really worked between them. It only proved how much people were able to change and how little you could predict of your own future.

Hermione used the years after Voldemort’s fall to gather as many diplomas as she could. Not only was she a qualified Healer, she also got a prestigious certificate as a Potions Master and the same diploma of Auror that Harry and Ron had earned several years before her.

At the age of twenty-eight, on a cold November evening, she received an owl from an old, familiar professor with only one question: was she interested in teaching at Hogwarts? Without hesitation, she accepted. Even if she was overqualified for the job, the thought of returning to Hogwarts to teach the new generation of Gryffindors was more exciting than any other offer she’d had until then.

Besides, it wouldn’t be forever. She could do this now, gather experience, and move on to more interesting adventures in her future.

On the eve of the first of December, she made the long walk from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, along the winding path through the Forbidden Forest. She had to keep herself in check or she would have skipped all the way there, overjoyed at the thought of returning to Hogwarts. The moment she left the forest behind and saw the castle, it was as exciting as when she’d seen it for the first time. It had been nearly eleven years since she’d last seen it, but it had lost none of its magic.

When she was greeted in the Great Hall by professor McGonagall and professor Flitwick, she found her own voice to sound abnormally over-excited. It was hard to contain.

After chatting about Harry and Ron for a while, the two professors allowed Hermione to continue her journey to the dungeons. The mood shifted as she entered the darker and colder area of the castle. The nostalgia that filled her this time, was alien to her. She remembered vividly how every week, she’d stood in these corridors with a grumbling Ron and disinterested Harry by her side, neither of them looking forward to Snape’s potions class. She remembered the dirty gazes of Draco Malfoy and his slytherin friends, and the bullying she’d endured.

“Times have changed,” she whispered to herself when she passed by Snape’s old office.

Snape and Draco were both dead now. Many other Slytherins she’d gotten to know at Hogwarts had gone to Azkaban. Those that had been released, had left their own country to hide in places where no retribution could follow, and where the Dark Arts weren’t frowned upon as harshly. Luckily, there were also good Slytherins left, and professor Slughorn was one of them.

Horace Slughorn startled when Hermione entered the potions classroom, but grinned widely the moment he recognized her. He rushed forward with short but quick steps, grabbing a firm hold of her hand.

She tried not to let it show how much he startled her in return. Slughorn had always been small, fat and bald, and he still was. But his moustache hardly had hairs left in it and the lines in his face were harsher than ever before. In the ten years she hadn’t seen him, one thing now became abundantly clear: he’d gotten old.

“Hermione!” he said warmly as he shook her hand vigorously. “Is it okay if I just call you Hermione?”

“Of course, professor!”

He chuckled.

“Call me Horace, for it’s my official retirement in a week from now! I shan’t be a professor no more!”

She smiled politely in response to his little quip, and he rushed back to his desk, where he arranged some parchment scrolls.

“Homework,” he said in an apologizing tone. “But I’ll leave it as it is. Have you gotten a room yet?”

“Not yet. My things are at the Three Broomsticks. I’ll fetch them through a fireplace later.”

“Ah, give my regards to Madam Rosmerta. I haven’t seen her for far too long.” He sighed. “But about your room… You should take one in the dungeons… They’re very comfortable, believe me. Or you could take one of the empty ones on the second floor, even though that’s far from your classroom. It’s closer to the quarters of most of your colleagues though, I’ll admit that honestly, but if you wish to brew some potions, you’ll be glad to be close to your cauldrons.”

“I agree. I think a room in the dungeons would be easiest. Besides…” She smiled warmly. “I’m curious to experience life in this part of the castle.” 

“Good. You won’t be alone. Professor Sinistra is nearby. She moved to the dungeons since she’ll be the official head of Slytherin starting next week. You can take a room in one of the nearby corridors, if you like.”

“Sounds good!”

“You always had such a remarkable talent in Potions,” he reminisced fondly. “And in other things as well! But even then, I think that it’s best if you observe my classes in the upcoming week. You can watch their progress yourself and it will give you a better idea where to pick up your lessons. I’ll leave all my curricula here, so you can use them as the basis of your own, but I’ll show you that later this week.”

Hermione nodded patiently and showed no intent to interrupt him.

“Let me join you to Sinistra’s hallway so you can see the empty quarters there. Once you’ve picked your room, you can fetch your bags over the Floo Network. And if you’d like to join me in the staff room afterwards, I’ll introduce you to the other professors, though I doubt you’ll see many you haven’t met yet.”

Hermione followed him to the dungeon corridor close to the Slytherin common room, and he showed her all available rooms. She picked the room that was furthest from the common room, a few corridors away from Sinistra’s, but close to the potions classroom and Snape’s old office.

The room itself was lovely. There was only one tiny window that overlooked the grass field near the Great Lake, and the room had luxurious dark wooden furniture and black leather sofas in front of the fireplace. There was a massive bookcase against the wall, which had been left by a professor of Potions a hundred years earlier, if Slughorn could be believed. On the wall besides the four-poster-bed, there was a large still-life painting of potions bottles from which colorful vapors rose slowly, but surely out of frame.

Slughorn gave Hermione a moment to pick up her belongings and when she’d finished arranging her items in her new room, she decided to head to the teacher’s lounge.

When she opened the door, she could hear how many of them were amiably conversing with one another, but her presence caused them all to grow quiet and turn their heads.

The old potions professor jumped out of his chair and abundantly announced her presence – not that it was necessary.

Hermione was delighted to see so many familiar faces. Professor Sinistra and Professor Vector came over to shake her hand and Madam Hooch and Madam Pince nodded politely in return. Between those old teachers she recognized another familiar face. Neville Longbottom had taken over from Pomona Sprout several years earlier, and Hermione’s grin couldn’t be wider as she saw him.

“Hi Neville!” she said with her heart so full of joy it felt like it could burst.

“Oh, of course!” Madam Hooch remembered. “You were classmates!”

“And housemates,” Slughorn added.

“That’s right,” Neville said politely. “I was delighted to hear you were coming, Hermione. Slughorn didn’t even mention he had asked you until last week. It came as quite the surprise when he announced you were the one that would take over from him.”

“I can believe that. How long have you been here now?”

“Six years,” he replied with a hint of pride in his tone. “But Pomona still drops by every now and then. Though she enjoys her time off, she gets bored at times and then she’ll come to check up on the plants. I think part of her is still afraid I’m going to murder some of them by accident.”

The other professors chuckled as Neville confessed that and Hermione looked around.

“Is it a full moon?” she wondered.

“Almost,” Slughorn said. “You’ll see professor Lupin in the morning, don’t worry. He’s fortunate that the Ministry provides him with Wolfsbane Potion.”

“I saw him last Christmas,” she admitted. “He looks so much better than before. Better rested and more cheerful too.”

“That’s not just the potion,” Neville said cheekily. “That’s Tonks.”

Suddenly, the door swung open and a young, beautiful blonde woman walked in. When she saw Hermione, she shrieked in enthusiasm and rushed towards her.

“’Ermione! You ‘ave finally arrived!”

Before Hermione knew what was happening, Fleur Delacour had wrapped her arms around her.

“’Ow are you? Eet ‘as been forever!”

Hermione wanted to disagree – since she didn’t consider the summer holidays an eternity ago – but politely nodded instead. Now that McGonagall was headmaster, Fleur taught Transfiguration. She didn’t live at Hogwarts, but took the Floo Network home every evening, to return to the home of herself and Bill and their little boy.

It was hard to shake Fleur, and Hermione saw how Neville and Slughorn exchanged a ‘Here-she-goes-again’-look with one another when the woman started talking about her classes and the “eencredeeble” progress her students were making thanks to her guidance. She dramatically added that she hoped Hermione’s students would be just as intrigued with her Potions lessons as they were with her Transfigurations classes.

Slughorn was the one to interrupt Fleur after several minutes, making up an excuse that it was very urgent that he showed Hermione the dungeons. Hermione knew better than to protest and was glad to be saved from Fleur for the evening.

“I had no idea she would be this full of herself here as well,” Hermione sighed.

Slughorn grinned.

“Fleur is a genius witch,” he admitted. “But every now and then she needs to learn to shut up about herself. Coming from me, that means something.”

His wink earned him a chuckle from Hermione, and they amiably returned to the Potions classroom.

Once inside, he immediately checked the parchment scrolls, opening one and placing it back on top of the others with a content sigh.

“Good. All homework is corrected now. That means I can show you the inventory of our provisions cabinet, and I’ll teach you how to order new ingredients. Did you know that we have a ten percent discount on all purchases at the Apothecary on Diagon Alley?”

Slughorn walked over to the storeroom and Hermione followed him, but stopped in front of his desk to look at the homework scrolls they’d left behind.

“Eh, Horace?” The name was still strange to use for Hermione. “How do you get it so that the homework gets corrected when you’re not here? What kind of spell do you use for that?”

Professor Slughorn froze for a brief moment, but then he turned to Hermione and offered her a brave half-smile.

“Not a spell,” he said slowly. “A helper, in a way.”

“A helper?” she repeated with a frown. “Who?”

He nonchalantly raised his shoulders.

“One of the new ghosts. You know of Agatha Tingle and Laura Moonstone?”

She nodded immediately. Laura Moonstone had been sorted into Hufflepuff during her fourth year, and had been murdered three years later by Death Eaters, along with the other members of her family. After that, they’d destroyed her old home, and as such, Laura, who’d been turned into a ghost, had been left without a house to haunt. Hogwarts filled that purpose now. And Agatha Tingle had died a year earlier because of an explosion with a self-stirring cauldron.

“I had no idea Agatha would be haunting Hogwarts,” Hermione remarked politely.

“Ah well, she didn’t feel like haunting her husband and her own children, and I can imagine that would have been rather annoying and confronting to them.”

“Of course,” Hermione agreed. “So Agatha is helping us instead?”

“Oh, no, no, of course not, that sounds like a dreadful idea! Agatha isn’t very proficient with a cauldron. If she was, I’m certain she would have been able to prevent an explosion with a self-stirring one! No, it’s a third ghost that’s helping out.”

“Oh!” She was truly intrigued now. “Who is it then?”

Professor Slughorn turned red in the face.

“Well… We don’t really know…” He lowered his voice. “If you ask me, it’s someone who died in one of the battles to do with the Dark Lord. When Hogwarts reopened, he was here, but he wasn’t before then.”

Hermione frowned, not sure what to think of that.

“I’d rather not talk about it here,” Slughorn whispered and he nodded towards the corridor to get Hermione to follow him. As they walked side by side, she remained quiet until they eventually ended up near the Great Hall again. It was only there that he continued.

“If you ask me, he was a Death Eater.”

Hermione’s eyes turned the size of saucers.

“Isn’t he a danger to…”

“No,” Slughorn immediately interrupted her. “He is most helpful, even polite…”

“Polite?” Hermione asked, even more confused now.

“In his messages. They’re always pure business, and I don’t believe he has any ill will towards us. He hears and sees everything in the dungeons, hence why I brought you here. I’d rather not talk about it where he can hear me.”

“Does McGonagall know?” she asked strictly.

“Of course!” he responded, his tone insulted. “What do you think of me? The first weeks that I received his aid, I thought someone was joking with me, but when I told McGonagall after a few weeks, she told me not to worry, even if he had been a Death Eater. The Bloody Baron was never able to hurt anyone as a ghost, and you do know why he’s called bloody, don’t you?”

Hermione nodded, against her will.

“But has no one ever seen him?” she asked, confused. “Not even the other ghosts?”

Slughorn shook his head.

“No. McGonagall is convinced that he doesn’t want to be recognized. Maybe he did some serious crimes, maybe he didn’t… And don’t worry, I checked if he was treating our full-blood students any differently from the muggleborns, but he’s always been completely fair in his corrections. So if he offers his help, take it. He’s very gifted when it comes to potions… And should he ask you for an ingredient… Just place it on the table for him. He’ll happily take it.”

Hermione was unable to stop frowning.

“He makes potions now?” Hermione asked in disbelief and disapproval. “What on earth would a ghost do with a potion?”

“Does it matter? He’s a great help. If he wants to collect potions ingredients in his spare time, then let him! Life has to be rather boring when you’re dead, I assume. No pun intended.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but still wasn’t at ease upon hearing this tale. Slughorn had not seen the ghost’s wrath, but Slughorn had been a Slytherin and a full-blood wizard. She, on the other hand, was the best friend of the wizard that had killed the Dark Lord. She wasn’t at ease, and would discuss it with McGonagall.

“Now, I said to show you how to order ingredients from the Apothecary, didn’t I? And then please, don’t mention the ghost while we’re down there. You never know when he’s listening!”


End file.
